


The Prince's Knight

by barbitone



Series: Voltron Fanfiction [45]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, First Kiss, First Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: Prince Lotor pushed through the crowd of soldiers so he could get a good look at the visitor.“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Sendak demanded of the young man glaring up at him. Lotor shifted until he could just make out his face through the row of guards that separated them. He was Lotor’s age, though perhaps a year or two older. He was slender and handsome, his hair dark as coal and his skin like ivory. His eyes were a clear gray and he looked up at Sendak without fear, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.“I wish to be made a knight,” the young man declared.Prequel toWhere the two ends meet





	The Prince's Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Where the two ends meet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710032) by [barbitone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone). 



> Huge thank you to [Devils_Official](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devils_Official) for betaing!!!

 

* * *

 

Lotor pushed through the crowd of soldiers so he could get a good look at the visitor. He was almost at the front when one of his guards, Sir Thace, noticed him and grabbed him by the arm to drag him back.

“Stay back, your highness,” he said and Lotor frowned but didn’t try to escape his grasp.

“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Sendak asked of the young man glaring up at him. Lotor shifted until he could just make out his face through the row of guards that separated them.

He was Lotor’s age, or perhaps a year or two older. He was slender and handsome, his hair dark as coal and his skin like ivory. His eyes were a clear gray and he looked up at Sendak without fear, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I wish to be made a knight.”

Sendak’s mouth dropped open in shock. Lotor leaned closer only for Sir Thace to pull him back again.

“You- can’t,” Sendak said.

“Why not?” the strange young man demanded.

“A commoner cannot be a knight,” Sendak said incredulously. “And a foreigner at that. Leave, now. Before I’m forced to report your impertinence to the King.”

“I won’t leave. Not until I’ve gotten what I came for.”

“This is your last chance. Leave, boy- while you still can.”

“No,” the stranger said, lifting his chin defiantly.

Sendak seemed speechless, and then he sighed and waved his hand. “Take him.”

The stranger didn’t resist as guards came over to take him by the arms and lead him away.

 

* * *

 

Lotor attended his father’s council session that day, waiting impatiently to find out the stranger’s fate. It was brought up and decided in less than a minute, most of which was spent on Sendak trying to explain the bizarre situation.

“Send him to the arena so he can learn his place,” Zarkon said with a faint wrinkling of his nose. There was no further discussion or argument; the meeting continued as scheduled and Lotor felt his heart sinking.

The arena. There was no way the young man would survive the ordeal, at least not for long.

That night he snuck down to the dungeons. It was easy enough to steal a set of keys and find the young man’s cell.

He was lying in the straw with his arms folded behind his head like he was napping in a summer meadow rather than awaiting his death in prison. When Lotor fumbled with the lock the young man looked over and jerked to his feet.

“Prince Lotor,” he said, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Lotor said, taken aback. Did they know each other? It didn’t seem possible, but the young man did look somehow familiar.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” the stranger asked with a smile, his cheeks growing pink.

How could he be smiling at a time like this? He was about to die, and for something so painfully foolish.

“Your fate has been decided,” Lotor said. “You’re to be sent to fight in the arena.”

“And how many matches must I win before I’m knighted?”

“What?” Lotor asked incredulously. “It- it’s not some sort of... _test._ It’s- a punishment, an execution. You’ll fight until you’re killed! Now come- you need to go, before it’s too late.”

“No,” the young man said, reaching through the bars to cover Lotor’s hands with his own. “This is my only chance. If I leave now I certainly won’t ever get what I want. But maybe- maybe if I can prevail in the arena-”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Lotor hissed. “You’re going to die, do you understand? Let me help you!”

“I’d rather die chasing what I love than live without hope,” the young man said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Lotor looked down to where his hands were covered by the stranger’s warm calloused palms.

“If you want to help,” the stranger continued, “give me a favor. So that I might fight harder knowing I have your warm regard.”

“A favor?” Lotor asked, looking up at him wide-eyed.

“Yes,” the stranger said with a grin. “A ribbon from your hair, a strip cut from your cloak, a handkerchief. A kiss, if you like.”

Lotor flushed and pulled his hands back out of his grasp. “You _are_ impertinent,” he said with a scowl.

“Yes.”

Lotor bit his lip and looked away, and then he pulled the ribbon from his hair. The stranger offered his hand and Lotor tied the ribbon around his wrist.

“What is your name?” Lotor asked.

“Takashi Shirogane,” the stranger said with a smile. “But you may call me Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor didn’t usually go to the arena, certainly not for the fights between prisoners and the executions. But how could he not attend what could be Shiro’s first and last battle?

He sat in the royal box with his hands folded in his lap, cold as he waited. It took ages, and then Shiro was walking out onto the sand. They’d given him some rudimentary armor at least, a leather jerkin studded with metal rings that were more decorative than functional. He had a sword too, and a helmet under his arm. He searched the audience until his eyes found Lotor’s, staring back at him, and grinned before giving him a cheeky salute. Lotor’s ribbon was still tied around his wrist and Lotor couldn’t help biting his lip as he stared at it.

“You didn’t,” Acxa muttered quietly beside him.

“Didn’t what,” he bit out.

She sighed and looked away. “Don’t get attached. He’ll be dead soon.”

“I know,” he whispered, watching as Shiro put his helmet on and his opponent, a Galra gladiator, walked out to face him.

The gong rang out to mark the beginning of the match and Shiro set his feet and raised his sword. The gladiator rushed him but Shiro was nimble and light-footed, dancing away from all the larger man’s attacks. Lotor couldn’t help leaning in as he watched. The gladiator was tiring, growing angry and disgruntled. His attacks grew wilder and easier to evade, and then Shiro slipped behind him and kicked him in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Shiro was quick to step forward, setting his foot against the middle of the gladiator’s back and his sword at his throat.

The audience went silent, completely thrown by this turn of events. Shiro took off his helmet and dropped it into the sand carelessly, grinning up at the stands. “I wish to be made a knight,” he announced.

Sendak made a hand sign and his men moved out to take Shiro away. Lotor stood, straining not to lose sight of him until the last possible moment-

“Huh,” Acxa said. “He’s a curious one.”

“Yes,” Lotor said, and it was only then that he realized he was smiling.

 

* * *

 

Shiro was scheduled to fight every few days. Each time Lotor snuck down to his cell to see him the night before, trying to convince him to leave. Each time Shiro shook his head and declined, and each time he won his match and made the same demand-

_“I wish to be made a knight.”_

“I hear commoners may earn their knighthood in Altea,” Lotor told him one night, sitting cross legged on the ground before the bars while Shiro did his exercises on the other side. It had been weeks and he’d made no move to escape or turn on the guards, so they’d started letting him keep a practice sword in his cell. Lotor watched the rippling muscle of his back as he did drills, his eyes tracing a bead of sweat sliding down Shiro’s naked bicep.

“I don’t wish to be an Altean knight.”

“Why not?” Lotor demanded. “A knight is a knight, what’s the difference?”

Shiro paused, breathing hard. “There’s a difference,” he said cryptically.

Lotor sighed, blowing his hair out of his face. “How are they feeding you?”

“Well enough,” Shiro said, his body twisting as he shifted into another form. “Although I wouldn’t refuse an apple tart.” He laughed like it was some sort of joke but Lotor made sure to bring him an apple tart the very next night.

“Thank you, Prince Lotor,” Shiro said, stunned and oddly reverent as he took the pastry. He took a huge bite, getting crumbs all over himself, and Lotor snorted.

When Shiro looked up at him quizzically Lotor smiled. “If you’re to be a knight, you’ve got to have better manners that that.”

Shiro grinned. “Maybe you’ll teach me, my Prince.”

“I’m not your prince,” Lotor said. “You’re a foreigner, not a Galra subject.”

Shiro shrugged like maybe such things weren’t so important. Ridiculous. He looked up at Lotor and smiled in that odd way he had- impertinent, familiar.

“You know me,” Lotor said, narrowing his eyes. “How?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” Shiro said. “Your family visited my homeland once, years ago. I was just a servant-”

“You left flowers in my room,” Lotor said, his eyes widening as he remembered. He’d been a child then, no more than eleven or twelve. “You were… a page-”

“Hardly,” Shiro laughed. “I was a kitchen boy, set to scrubbing pans and feeding the pigs. I delivered your meals though, while you were staying at the castle. I was told to stay out of sight but on the very first morning you caught me.”

“Yes,” Lotor said with a smile. “I didn’t understand why you seemed so afraid-”

“And you shared your apple tart with me.”

“Oh,” Lotor said, looking down at the half eaten pastry Shiro still held in his hand.

“Imagine that,” Shiro said thoughtfully. “A prince sharing a tart with a kitchen boy. A nobody. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

Lotor wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. He was oddly breathless, Shiro’s gray gaze resting on him felt like a physical weight. “Well,” he said awkwardly, licking his dry lips. “I’m- taller, now.”

Shiro laughed and scarfed down the rest of the pastry in a few giant bites before licking his fingers clean. For some reason Lotor felt oddly hot under the collar as he watched, and finally he turned to walk away.

Shiro won his next fight, and half a dozen more. And then he went up against one of Sendak’s Lieutenants and got a vicious slash to the face and a worse one to the arm. He still managed to win somehow, even as he collapsed to the sand right after. Lotor hurried down into the arena, trailed by Acxa and Narti, and ordered the guards to bring Shiro to the infirmary.

The doctors refused to touch him- they were forbidden from treating prisoners and especially those that fought in the arena- so Lotor cleaned Shiro’s wounds himself and Narti stitched them up, her hands steadier in the moment than what he could have managed.

The doctors tried to send Shiro back to his cell but Lotor turned on them with a snarl, ordering them out. He sat at Shiro’s bedside after, holding his hand and watching his steady breathing.

“Why are you doing this?” Lotor whispered when he woke.

Shiro smiled. The insolent fool was always smiling at him like that, warm and open. Lovely.

“I fell in love,” Shiro said quietly, “with someone far above my station. But maybe- if I’m a knight, maybe we can be together.”

“You fool,” Lotor hissed at him. “If you have any sense at all you’ll give up on this! Whoever it is you love won’t want you dying for them, do you understand?”

“Then it’s just as well it’s not up to them to decide what I die for. Not yet, I suppose. Once I’m a knight I’ll have to serve my Prince and obey his will, do his bidding.”

“You’ll never be a knight!” Lotor exclaimed, standing. “Never! Do you understand? It will never be!”

Shiro frowned and Lotor felt tears rising to his eyes. But maybe if he crushed Shiro’s dreams he could save Shiro’s life.

“It will _never_ be,” Lotor said, his voice dropping dangerously. “You’ll die in the arena, and you’ll never be with your darling. Give up. Just give it up-”

 _“No,”_ Shiro said firmly, his voice loud and strong in the dark room. “I won’t. I’ll finish it one way or another. Isn’t that your people’s way? Victory- or death.”

Lotor turned and walked away, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

He didn’t attend the next few fights but he heard of Shiro’s victories and he couldn’t stay away for long. When he returned, Shiro saluted him with a smile. He still wore Lotor’s hair ribbon, dirty and blood stained by now, tied around his wrist.

Nearly a year passed and Shiro became something of a legend throughout the kingdom. Lotor could tell his father was growing disgruntled by it all, the spectacle of a commoner and a foreigner having such success against seasoned Galra fighters.

On the eve of Lotor’s coming of age there was a match. Shiro was to fight Myzax, the most skilled gladiator in Zarkon’s stable.

Lotor went to Shiro’s cell, knowing it would be futile and needing to try once more, try and convince him once more to give up on his dream and _go._

“No, darling,” Shiro said, reaching through the bars to take Lotor’s hand. “I won’t go. But if you want to help- give me a favor. So that I might fight harder knowing I have your warm regard.”

“You already have my favor,” Lotor said quietly, pulling lightly on the edge of the ragged ribbon tied around his wrist. “And my warm regard.”

“I’m a greedy man,” Shiro said with a grin. “Give me another. A ribbon from your hair, a strip cut from your cloak, a handkerchief. A kiss, if you like.”

“You _are_ impertinent,” Lotor whispered and leaned closer. It was awkward and they could only manage a chaste brush of lips through the bars, but Shiro sighed with such satisfaction that Lotor couldn’t help smiling.

“Give me a favor in return,” he said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give, my Prince.”

“Win tomorrow,” Lotor said firmly. “Win for me and I’ll find a way to give you everything you want and more.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s heart was in his throat throughout the whole match. He gripped his handkerchief so tightly in his hands that he nearly ripped it- but Shiro was glorious as ever on the field of battle.

It lasted longer than his other fights had, it was more brutal, but in the end Shiro stood sweaty and bloody and victorious with his foot on Myzax’s back and his sword at the gladiator’s throat.

He looked up and met Lotor’s eyes, and for once he stayed silent. The guards took him away.

The birthday feast came after and there were gifts and toasts and speeches. Zarkon got well and truly drunk in a way he rarely did until Sendak had to hustle him out. Lotor waited one hour more, just to be certain, and then gave Acxa their discrete signal.

His palms were sweating as he went to the heartwood, the ancient garden in the center of the castle. He didn’t have to wait very long. Soon Narti arrived with the Archivist, grumbling about being too old to be dragged out of bed like this. Thace came too, confused and yawning. And then Acxa was there, leading in Shiro- still wearing his bloodstained prisoner’s rags.

Shiro’s face lit up in a radiant smile when he saw Lotor waiting for him.

“Kneel, Takashi Shirogane,” Lotor said quietly and Shiro didn’t hesitate, ducking his head respectfully.

Lotor spared a brief thought to what his father would do once he found out about this, only to shove it away. It didn’t matter. He was of age now, he could knight Shiro himself and no one could stop him or take it back after. He drew his sword and set it carefully on Shiro’s left shoulder.

“Do you vow to speak only the truth?”

“Yes,” Shiro murmured, and Lotor moved it to his other shoulder.

“Do you vow to be charitable and brave, to defend the poor and helpless?”

“Yes.”

“Do you vow to be loyal and devoted to your Lord?”

Shiro looked up at him slowly, his eyes dark and sincere in the moonlight. “I vow to be loyal and devoted to my Prince, now and forever.”

Lotor bit his lip, his heart stuttering in his chest as he sheathed his sword and pulled off his cloak, stepping forward to drape it over Shiro’s shoulders.

“Then you may arise as Sir Takashi Shirogane, a knight of the realm and a servant of the crown for as long as you shall live.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, his voice shaking. He stumbled as he stood and Lotor steadied him, holding his shoulders as he looked up into Shiro’s stunned face.

“Lord Archivist, Sir Thace- as my witnesses can you confirm that everything is in order and Sir Shirogane is now a knight in good standing?”

“You’ll catch hell for this, boy,” Thace said, but there was something like approval in his voice. “But yes. It’s done and binding.”

“Witnessed and sealed,” the Archivist said. “Now may an old man return to bed or are there more shenanigans I must contend with?”

“No,” Lotor said with a laugh. “Thank you, Lord Archivist. That will be all.”

“As for you,” Thace said, turning to Shiro. “Let’s get you a proper bath and some fresh clothes. There’s an empty room in the barracks-”

“I’ll take him, Sir Thace,” Lotor interrupted. “That is, if I may.”

Thace was silent for a moment and then he laughed and clapped Lotor on the back. “You’re a man grown now. You can do whatever you like, as you’ve just proven. Good night, and congratulations, son.” The last he said to Shiro, who beamed at him in response. “Welcome to the brotherhood.”

Everyone else left as well, and then it was just Lotor and Shiro standing alone under the moonlight.

“Thank you,” Shiro whispered.

“Is there anything else you’d like, Sir Shirogane?”

“A favor, Prince Lotor,” Shiro said with a smile. “A kiss, if you would.”

“Impertinent,” Lotor grumbled as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

 

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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